


Sacrifice Our Today

by ozsia



Series: Bonding Ties: Awakening Support Convos [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Brain Damage, Characters of Colour, F/F, Falling In Love, Fictional Religion & Theology, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sign Language, Stuttering, War, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsia/pseuds/ozsia
Summary: Emmeryn had never expected to find love, that it was with a Plegian was perhaps the gods irony. But Robin was made up of soft edges and good intentions. She had never treated Emmeryn with anything less than respect, and adapted to Emmeryn’s new needs as quickly as breathing.With Emmeryn's past it could be argued that she did not deserve this but she found herself too weak to deny it.





	Sacrifice Our Today

_‘You have to listen,’_ Father tells her when she is young and Chrom but a babe. In a time where Mother is still alive and well and Father still smiles, gaze clear with a steadiness that was lost from grief and the ensuring madness that tore their family, and whole countries apart. Before everything fell apart and she was still untouched by blood. _‘When someone is in need, you must always listen.’_

Father placed a delicate bird into her open palms as a lesson, made her carry the responsibility for another’s health for the first time. She felt its terrified heartbeat against her skin and her own responded in kind. _‘But they can’t talk,’_ Emmeryn stated a furrowed brow as she gazed at the pretty creature with its fluffy chest and soft feathers, coloured brightly, and suffering. 

Father directed her to the bird’s wing wordlessly and she noticed how different it look from the other. _‘Sometimes you don’t need words.’_ The bird’s wing was crooked and she could have noticed the injury any time if she’d just paid enough attention. _‘Their wing is broken and they’re hurting. So, dear one, what do you think they need?’_

Emmeryn thought as she looked up into Father’s eyes - the ones she inherited along with her blonde hair and her aptitude for magic. _‘You - you can heal him,’_ Emmeryn offered, ‘with your staff.’ 

_‘Well done.’_ Father nodded and readied his heal staff over her hands. Warm light emanated from the crystal. He produced a short, concentrated burst and not long, the bird began to unfold its wings, tentatively, and soon after it took off, flying out of her hands and up into the sky. She watched them leave until Father petted her head. _‘Remember, not everyone can tell you when they’re hurting. Not everyone can say the words. Sometimes you have to work it out yourself.’_

It’s wisdom that stayed with her as Emmeryn took up the duties of a cleric and dedicated herself to healing the soldiers that dragged themselves to see the Court Healer as she apprenticed under her. She met many people there, outside of their soldiers, and they couldn’t always help everyone that walked through the doors. Those that were too far long and had an ailment they couldn’t fix, Emmeryn remembered. It filled her with sadness but just as much determination for the next patient. 

Mother pouted over her heir not holding her interests for the art of the sword, but Emmeryn never took it to heart; she could sense her parents pride. _‘Look at our daughter,’_ Father would crow with humour that wasn’t long for this world, ‘ _it seems she takes after me.’_

Mother huffed. _‘Do not feel too entitled, husband,’_ she mock warned with narrowed eyes and a mouthful of teeth, ‘ _the next one will be_ mine.’ 

The proclamation brought everyone to stop. ‘… _the next?_ ’ Father asked with wide eyes.

They were so happy, and Chrom seemed to only increase their family’s contentment. Emmeryn was excited for a younger sibling as her parents fought over his future before he was ever born. But when he finally arrived with Mother’s blue hair and eyes, Mother gloated as Father rolled his eyes, unbothered and just as excited.

Father continued to teach Emmeryn in his free time despite the exhaustion that plagued both her parents in nurturing a new life. He had a lot to offer before his madness and when Emmeryn’s greatest wish of following Father’s footsteps turned into her greatest fear. Before Lissa was conceived and this campaign; the Blood Wars, that will end centuries of peace and had her learning things she would pray she’d never have had to contemplate. 

Emmeryn and Chrom were easy pregnancies, births uncomplicated but Mother’s third baby held nothing but complications. Ayra - Emmeryn’s mentor and Mother’s midwife as well as their nanny had a very difficult job. The baby kept turning the wrong way and there were several times where Mother thought she’d miscarried.

Mother got very sick nearing term. Her skin paled from its normally healthy glow and she lost her lucidity. She couldn’t leave her bed which was unheard of for the normally healthy woman, and Falchion left her side. Caring for Mother became Ayra’s full time job as her duties as Court Healer where given to her other apprentice - her son, and Emmeryn took up looking after Chrom as Father took over for Mother in running Ylisse when he was not by her side. 

Ayra was the best healer in the country - in her field - and she did everything she knew to do. She treated Mother’s symptoms and when labour began, she did her best. But Mother bled. She bled and she would not stop. Ayra called forth her son, Logan to aid her as she pulled Lissa free and sought to the baby who did not cry as Mother demanded they save her daughter. ‘ _She cannot die. Naga save us, if one of us is sent into Grima’s arms it will_ not be her,’ Mother snarled with a fierceness that characterised her reign; fierce love and unwavering loyalty.

Ayra took those words to heart. Lissa lived but Mother drew her last breath after almost fourteen hours of labour. There was enough to time for her family to be called in and Mother was afforded the opportunity to pass on her words herself. Emmeryn and Chrom watched her leave - Chrom, who had yet to be told that some goodbyes were forever and took Falchion up into his arms when he saw it discarded, hanging limb on her bedpost, understanding but not. Father spent the time yelling at Ayra and Logan. ‘ _For Naga’s sake, save her! She’s still alive!’_

_‘My lord - she’s bled too much and we cannot stop her haemorrhaging.’_

_‘What are these excuses?! Do you wish for your exalt to die?!’_

_‘No, no -’_

Ayra was married to Lord Kallaghan of Ylisse, and left Plegia to start a family with her husband. She was respected by the court and one fo the leading professionals in medicine, but that was not enough to protect her when Father accused her of treason. He ignored Lord Kallaghan’s pleas, for the cries for a trail and weeks after Lissa’s birth, Ayra and her son were executed outside of the castle gates. Ayra cried for her son to be spared but Father became death. Ylisseans were horrified; no pyre had been used in their lifetimes and their deaths were horrific. 

_‘Grima save you,’_ Ayra screamed as Logan was destroyed in front of her. ‘ _Grima save you for what you do, Fridolin Ylisse.’_

Emmeryn was forced to attend with her siblings, Chrom watching his nanny die with their Mother’s sword still in his arms and baby Lissa in her’s that she’d had to name. Emmeryn found herself shielding them from the sight, even as she couldn’t look away. Emmeryn can still smell them, still see them in her dreams; that terrible image printed into her retina, of that terrible day. 

Lord Kallaghan left the Capital the next day, left his wealth as the Lord of Able Town and travelled to Plegia to be with his wive’s family. Emmeryn did not see him again.Ayra’s words as she died only strengthened Father’s hatred and his paranoia that the Grimleal were responsible; that Mother’s death was planned was all he could think about. It consumed him. No one’s objections were listened to and as Prince Consort until Emmeryn was of age to take the crown, they were powerless to stop him. 

‘ _It’s against the Grimleal, sire!’_ one brave had attempted to reason. _‘Killing outside of self defence goes again His word. Grima -’_

_‘Silence! Did you not hear the_ Witch _as she burnt?! We are under attack and I will not watch as anymore Ylisseans die!’_ Father swore with fire in his eyes and revenge on his tongue. 

Plegia is Ylisse’s sister country and they’ve always shared a deep connection since Hero King Marth took Plegia’s Caeda for his wife in time of strive. They’ve been allies for generations, with interlocking language and customs. Ylisse boasted a large Plegian population and vice visa, but that all stopped as Father mobilised their provincial army. They marched on Plegia in an act of war that shocked a continent. He named this betrayal, this violence as the “Holy Crusade”. He killed and tortured many, those he did not kill he’d convert, force into worshiping Naga to show their repentance. The laguz’ rose up in outrage as their brother and sister beorcs they share the sands with were slaughtered, and joined in their fate. Clans were slowly wiped out as the provincial army dwindled in numbers and Father forced the royal army to advance. 

Plegian emissaries were sent, and those gate guards that Father had not poisoned, sent them away. The one’s invited in were brought forward and killed in fire. Talks of peace stopped before they ever really began. Plegians fled Ylisse, castle staff - those lucky - were smuggled out. Regna Ferox, who are in Isolation took in any Plegian migrant able to make it to the Longfort. 

Emmeryn took over looking after siblings without their nanny, and soon started teaching herself a tome when the fighting increased and men and women - _civilians,_ were forced to enlist. She chose Wind; an element that could not burn or scold or wither the flesh. Dragon of Flame Agni, she could not contemplate through Elfire or its contemporaries. Instead, she called forth Dragon of Air Amihan: with Elwind, and hoped for acceptance. 

It took time before she was able to use a tome with any success. Wind was the weakest element but just as finicky as fire, and she struggled with it intensely. Father, had after all, shown her that healing could only do so much. Could only go so far.

Years passed - nine. Nine years of praying for this to end, of turning a blind eye to migrants and prisoners escaping, of aiding and abetting and fearing one day Father would find her out and kill her next. Nine years of Hel. Chrom and Lissa grew, too young to be seeing such destruction done in their family name. Lissa at four was young enough not to remember a lot of it but Chrom - dear Chrom who took after Mother and all her protective instinct didn’t need to fully understand to grow agitated at the cries from the prison, the town square. 

Nine years of death and hellfire, until there was a turning point in the war. Plegia had been acting on defence for years, unable to keep up with the aggression of the Crusaders, and then fearful of endangering the lives captured and converted. But then Father came home with a prisoner. She wasn’t another Grimleal that refused to bend, or an acolyte, but Plegia’s _Shah,_ Her Majesty Annushka who was dragged before the throne room. 

Emmeryn saw herself attending Shah Annushka’s “sentencing” in her nightmares, and seeing the consequences of all this bloodshed, in Father’s cruelty knelt before them. Ember eyes watched, righteous cold fury in every line of her otherwise apathetic face. Her composure was unbreakable and Emmeryn felt strong admiration for this woman who refused to cower.

_‘I sentence you to death,’_ Father announced and no one was surprised. The council was silent though pale and disapproving. Father had killed the last few lords and ladies that protested and no they had no recourse but silence if they valued their lived. 

_‘And I shall die,’_ Shah Annushka acknowledged unmoved, she’s resigned herself to this and would not give Father the satisfaction in emotional outbursts, _‘I have nothing to fear from death. Can you say the same, Prince Regent?’_

Father sneered and drew his sword. He advanced and Emmeryn knew then that if she did not act now, she would regret it for the end of her days. She fingered her tome, drew it behind Father’s back and tried to summon a blast that would stop this madness. Shah Annushka could not die. They would never be able to fix what they’ve broken, if she did. 

But Elwind was unyielding as it ever was and it took second too long to engage Amihan’s might. Second’s Father used to thrust a sword through Shah Annushka’s stomach. ‘ _Elfire would be justice for you and all your evil, but I think I want your fellow heathens to recognise you when we return to them,’_ Father cooed into her ear. 

Emmeryn’s calm fled her and so did her reason. The oxygen around her turned into a vacuum. Father never saw it coming when the only daughter he’d acknowledge manipulated the air around him and used it to _crush_ him. He died instantly. He fell lifelessly, leaving the sword in Plegia’s Shah as she stayed knelt, eyes wide at this unexpected turn of advents. 

The sound of his death, echoed in her ears; will return to haunt her in times of great stress. And his crown - the one Mother lovingly place on his head on their marriage day, when he gained the title of Prince Consort, rolled until it hit her foot. She stared at it numbly. _Naga forgive me,_ she thought as she looked up to ever set of shocked eyes watching her. 

Just a child, she’d committed the sin of parricide and she didn’t even have time to think about it. She dropped the tome next to all of Father’s power and her own misgivings and ran to Shah Annushka who’s bleeding from the mouth and was beginning to tilt to the side when Emmeryn caught her in her arms. She’s barely strong enough to hold this woman, as the Shah looks up at her, gaze too sharp on someone dying. _‘Oh - oh child, you have chosen to carry quite the undertaking.’_

_‘I’m sorry,’_ Emmeryn gasped frantically. _‘I’m sorry. It’s not enough, but I’m sorry.’_

Emmeryn didn’t need her background in medicine to know it was a fatal wound. Shah Annushka attempted a smile. _‘Sometimes “sorry” is all we have.’_ The Shah grasped hold of Emmeryn’s hand. ‘ _But it’s both too late for - for such apologies and too early. You - you must work now.’_

_‘I will,’_ Emmeryn promised. 

_‘You shall take care of our countries.’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘And end this senseless bloodshed.’_

_‘Yes.'_

_‘Good. Good. Grima has been - furious, at this war. You will - please him.’_

_‘Y-yes.’_

Shah Annushka took in a breath, or tried and looked at the sword still inside her. _‘Help me, remove it.’_

Emmeryn didn’t want to cause this woman anymore pain but could not refuse her as she aided the Shah in pulling the sword out of her stomach, Blood poured out of her when the blade was freed and the sounds - they were awful. But the Shah just sighed, slumped back into Emmeryn and covered the gaping whole with her arm.

_‘Exalt,’_ Shah Annushka gasps around the blood filling her mouth, and Emmeryn tries not to start at the title, _‘I - I cannot return to my country like this. My daughter cannot see me like this.’_

Her clothes were ruined, her headdress destroyed, jewellery in ruin and hair messy and skin dirty. And the blood, all that blood… Her condition was not something her loved one’s should have to see, so they would not. _‘I - I’ll fix it. You have my word - I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll do everything within my power to fix this. So Naga hears it, so it will be.’_ Emmeryn was never one to ramble and from word to the next she felt the Shah breathe her last pained breath.

Tears gathered heavily under her eyes but she refused them as looked to the deadly silently council and the guards that had not moved when Father fell. She swallowed the bile. _‘I am calming my birthright today,’_ she stared, _‘do you have any objections?’_

None came.

Her first act as heir was to fix what Father had broken. She sowed Shah Annushka’s wound personally, washed and cleaned her with all the respect she could. She redressed her in clothes the Royal Seamstress had remade in a Plegia cut and cloth. Did her hair in a style that was traditional and then placed Shah Annushka’s fixed jewellery and headdress back onto her person. When Emmeryn was finished Shah Annushka looked - presentable, less tortured. 

Magic was placed onto Shah Annushka’s body before the decay began, on her death day. The spell was reapplied before Shah Annushka’s journey home with a convoy of prisoners and a few loyal castle guards set off to the capital. The council would not hear of Emmeryn leaving Ylisse, so she stayed though she wished to go. It felt wrong not to. 

Emmeryn is officially crowned Exalt days later and the first thing she did with her authority is pull what remained of their troops out of Plegia. Those that returned were either shadows of themselves; harrowed and sick, or they’d grown to like the blood, to lust after it, left twisted and violent. She didn’t know what to do with either. Ylisse was once a greet force, having a provincial army thousands strong and an even larger royal army. Not even half their people returned and all of them that did were forever changed. 

That citizens who were raided by Plegians, were drafted and suffered were angry and scared and that did not change when Emmeryn took the throne. Not Emmeryn who’d always taken after Fridolin, who was his spiting image. Not Emmeryn who killed her father. No matter what she did, it was treated with mistrust and no gratitude and she deserved that. 

Plegia cold fury was far worse. Her convoy returned, alive and uninjured, carrying a warning. The Hierophant, Validar, had met them at the border. He’d taken one look at his Shah and broke from whatever collectedness he’d tried to maintain. Emmeryn wasn’t overly aware of Plegia’s hierarchy other than the Hierophant led the Grimleal and their Shahs are the equivalent of their Exalts. But Ser Killian looked grave when he reported that Hierophant Validar and Shah Annushka were partnered, joining their church and crown. Their child, a daughter Chrom’s age had been there, the heir to both her parents and was just as devastated with the knowledge of her mother’s execution. 

‘ _He swore that this would not be forgiven,’_ Ser Killian quietly reported. _‘That no reparation would undo Ylisse’s betrayal. He said to tell you, the next Exalt, that…that the six eyes will be watching and he will make Ylisse suffer like they have. And Milady? I believe him.’_

Plegia closed their border, stopped trade and would have nothing to do with Ylisse. When bandits and mercenaries entered Emmeryn’s country she could do little to defend against it but withdrawal most of the remaining castle guards from the posts and send the across the country sides. It wasn’t long before she heard about Plegia’s new ruler - a man who’d forgone the title of “Shah” and instead used the Ylissean “King” moniker. He was apparently related to Validar and not Annushka, but with Validar’s partnership and the heir still not of age he was accepted. 

They said how he was mad, and he may be, but if so, Emmeryn cannot help but think they are responsible. 

The continued attacks helped her little. She handled it and the two assassination attempts she made she no one bar her aid Phila and Knight Frederick are aware of. The few times she was attacked out in the open, in her city she cannot keep so quiet. Her brother was far less accepting about it.

Emmeryn spent her reign walking a balancing act between the cold war that Ylisse and Plegia were engaged in, unspoken about but known to everyone from the richest noble to the poorest peasant. She held onto peace by her fingertips, desperately refusing to let go because that would mean failure, to her people, to all her promises and if she failed then people would die. 

She understood that if conflict broke out again, Ylisse would not come out of it well. Their army was decimated and their finances were ruined from nearly ten years at war. The castle guards already overworked and understaffed were barely functioning. The Pegasus Knights had talent but not numbers and Chrom’s Shepherds - a volunteer group held much the same problem. 

It was no real surprise that this desperation led Emmeryn to walking to her death. She’d expected it for years. Chrom had a lot to learn but outside his anger and the strength he struggled to control, lay a good man and a capable leader. She did not envy the burden she was handing to him but she saw no other way. And with her trust in her family, Emmeryn allowed herself to fall with equanimity; wishing for the future, sending on her love.

She should have died.

She should have, and she does not know whether it is a curse that she survived. 

What remained of Emmeryn after her fall barely remembered the hard lessons and choices she’d had to make to make this far. She could not always recall her failings, the consequences of her life or the blood on her hands. Nor could she always recall her siblings, when they found her in a village she knew not the name of. With her so muddled recognition took time and when their names came to her, she’d already isolated them. 

Chrom and Lissa continue to try with her but they grow distant. She fears that to them she truly did die that day to the sound of Gangrel’s mocking laughter. They do not look at her properly, will not meet her eyes after the day they are reunited when she looked at them and her shattered memory would not lend her their faces straight away.

Emmeryn finds herself wishing she had died. Her memory is full of whole; her past hazy, coming in and out of focus like an ocean’s tide. Her siblings look at her like she is a ghost and every time it hurts her more. She’s lost her place in the world, no longer needed, in the way…Sometimes she remembers the irony in this, but it’s mostly just painful. 

Her speech is worse the a child’s; stuttering and splintered. Often, Emmeryn will reach for a world only to have it wrenched away from her and to be left floundering at its absence. She can understand everything around her just find, which is her only saving grace, and all that she needs for a war effort she’s been made silent to. 

Mercifully, her greatest affliction is with language and her memory. Her motor skills are fine, even if she’s out of practice with fighting. She did not wish to burden Chrom more than her presence is already. So Emmeryn endeavours to be as useful as she can. Even if she can barely work a staff or a tome with how long it’s been since she’s channeled either. 

Emmeryn’s stubborn though, a trait Mother gave her. She liberates Elwind from the armoury and practices, but it’s just as obstinate and unwilling. Which is how she’s properly reintroduced to Robin, Chrom’s tactician and chief advisor and constant companion. A Plegia who can look at Ylissean royalty and not see an enemy, but look past all they’ve done and try to help them. 

Emmeryn’s seen a lot of Robin; she’s always running around, though they’ve spoken little. With Emmeryn’s stutter and forgetfulness, conversation is a chore and those not intimidated by who she is, will find the awkwardness of speech to difficult to get through. Chrom has left her in Robin’s hands, though, and Emmeryn does not blame them for their lack of attention. Finding her alive but - not, saw all their grief return and they have other things to focus on.

( _‘Emm, this is -’_

_‘Robin,’_ Emmeryn whispers because this woman is a Plegia and she’s always been very aware of Plegians. The tactical straightens though if they asked her again, she would not be able to repeat the name. But she recalled this lady and her kind eyes when their positions were reversed and Robin stood before Emmeryn when she first came to Ylisse, so long ago.

_‘Your Grace, it is good to see you.’)_

However difficult Chrom and Lissa find her condition, they still love her and they trust Robin inexplicable. In fact, everyone’s regard of Robin is respectful, but no more so than with her siblings. They care for her like family, and Robin’s no doubt had to proven herself a hundred times over. It’s no surprise that they made Emmeryn just another in Robin’s long list of duties. 

Robin is who shows her around, teacher her camp life and nearly every name to every face Emmeryn is likely to see again, despite Emmeryn unable to recite even half back to the tactician. Robin never treats her like a hassle, despite how arduous her condition makes even the simplest of tasks. Robin’s company is pleasant despite the woman being extremely overworked, with a mountain of chores and duties that keep her up all hours of the night. It isn’t until Robin realises that Emmeryn’s struggling with her combat magic that this same duty back. 

Robin, who Emmeryn’s so proud to have gotten to know, who’s come so far from the uncertain bird that stumbled in after her siblings with a joint tale of fire and the undead. She remembers the whispers Robin brought with her to the castle. When all anyone could see was the dark colour of her hair, or the white of her hair, the red of her eyes and that cloak of her’s which designated her as a Grimleal, even when she, herself, held no knowledge of the religion.

(Emmeryn cannot remember how jarring that first meeting was; not just to have a Plegia back in the place, but of how vividly having Robin stand in front of her had made her see Shah Annushka’s execute like it was happening again, right in front of her.)

‘I’m sorry I didn’t notice before,’ Robin says, bowed and apologetic. She ignores Emmeryn’s protests, always so needlessly respectful. ‘I should have realised that you may have needed a - refresher.’ Robin picks her words carefully. Many people did with Emmeryn’s condition, but Robin does it with less discomfort and more attention to not trying to hurt her. 

‘Please…it is…not…your…’ Emmeryn has to stop and she bites her lip as frustration wells inside her. She is gesturing hopelessly with her hands; a tic she never had before, as she grapples for the right word. It does not appear and her tongue flattens useless. Shame is quick to find her. 

‘Forgive me, Your Grace, but I am this army’s tactician,’ Robin asserts gently without so much as blinking. Robin’s taken Emmeryn’s condition into regard with a compassion that’s solely her own, while acknowledging Emmeryn’s limitations without belittling her. ‘It is my _job_ to notice these things.’ 

‘I…should have….told…you,’ Emmeryn says but she hadn’t wanted to add anymore to Robin’s plate, hadn’t wanted to admit that this was just another thing she struggles with now. There were so many reasons why she’d kept silent, and it hadn’t all been out of habit.

‘Yes, you should have,’ Robin allows bluntly. Emmeryn doesn’t know if Robin has always had such a strong personalty or simple attitude, or if it’s just developed around Chrom and the Khan’s but she doesn’t dislike. ‘If you don’t mind my asking, if you know that then why didn’t you.’

Emmeryn is silent for a moment. ‘I…did not…want…to…worry…’ she trails off as she forgets her brother’s name and then her sister’s. It’s such a common occurrence, that she only holds the barest frustration at their absence. 

Robin hums and again doesn’t comment at Emmeryn’s missing words to her missing knowledge. She also doesn’t try to remind her, like the others. Because Emmeryn _knows,_ she just can’t access the information and being told again feels demeaning. ’It would worry them a lot more ifgot hurt.’ 

Emmeryn winces at that, because she’s had a couple of close calls where Robin has come to her like an avenging dragon, and beaten back any opponent giving her trouble. She swallows her apprehension. ‘I…need to…learn.’

Robin nods, patient and willing. ‘Of course,’ she says. ‘I can teach you, if you’ll allow me, Your Grace.’

Emmeryn’s happy with this arrangement though she thought it burdensome. Robin has so little time already and this causes her to have to reschedule herself, her other duties and her router she keeps for interacting with the other Shepherds. Emmeryn’s not new to quilt, even if it’s to aid Emmeryn’s growth and have her match strength with everyone else. 

Frederick is typically in charge of training but Frederick is a knight who knows little of magic. They have a few mages; Mariel who’s teacher to young Ricken, but she’s be too distracted with Emmeryn’s condition and the dark mages Tharja and Henry know little else but Arcane magics and Emmeryn doesn’t feel comfortable learning that, even if they’d allow it. Plegian’s became secretive with their practices during the Blood Wars and really, all Emmeryn wants is to be able to function as a mage.

‘It is - too long…you have…so…much…to do,’ Emmeryn stuttered one night in concern as the shadows darken under Robin’s eyes from the continued pressure she’s under. 

‘It’ll take as long as it takes,’ Robin reaffirms. ‘We’re not stopping until you can properly defend yourself. I cannot be responsible for sending you out onto the battlefield unprepared and have something happen. I wouldn’t be able to look Chrom in the eye again.’

‘You…are…tired,’ Emmeryn maintains stubbornly. Robin is so important, and not just to Chrom and Lissa’s stability who she’s heard all but adopted the tactician after she fell. Robin is what keeps this whole army going; she plans the their strategies, their battle partners and positions. She’s who keeps morale up and seeks wares, individually keeps every soldiers skills and weapons in order. Without her… 

Robin laughs. ‘It’s been better than the alliterative. I can sleep when I’m dead,’ she retorts before softening her caustic tone when Emmeryn flinches. ‘I understand how difficult this must be for you. You’re a strong, independent person but - there’s nothing wrong with requiring aid, and I must insist that we continue. You can dislike me for my forwardness if you wish, many do, but I’ll take it if it continues to keep you safe.’

Emmeryn stares and wonders how Robin’s missed how much this company has grown to love her. She snorts indelicately and doesn’t care. She is far from the exalt she was, and with only Robin here there’s no point keeping up pretences. ‘I…could not…dislike you…Robin.’ Her name comes to Emmeryn more easier than it did, appearing in her mouth occasionally even if it’s still a challenge. 

Robin smiles sunnily. ‘Then, I’ll see you after dinner, Your Grace.’ 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really love Emmeryn even if I wish they had better expanded on her past and her family. The hints they gave us really wasn't enough. Also, narrative wise, I think it really ruined things when they made her a recruitable characters. That it doesn't make sense and they didn't bother with her supports just made it lazier. I dunno.


End file.
